


like we were indestructible

by redheartglow



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Always-a-girl, F/M, Gen, M/M, Robots, Spy!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-22
Updated: 2013-06-22
Packaged: 2017-12-15 18:03:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/852437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redheartglow/pseuds/redheartglow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan’s funny little team is odd but functional and oozes competence; under duress, she might even admit that she’s kind of fond of her lovesick children. </p><p>(a secret agent au in which ryan whitney is a lady, sam gagner is a secret badass, and ryan nugent-hopkins is a disgruntled robot. oh, and jordan and taylor are there too.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	like we were indestructible

**Author's Note:**

> a bunch of words that consist of ridiculousness, ryan whitney being an awesome lady (because more girls = more fun), and as many thall-isms as possible.
> 
> as always, for robyn. ♥

1.

Jordan Eberle’s not the first agent who’s changed jobs while Ryan’s been responsible for handling him: that list is almost embarrassingly long. It includes Sidney Crosby, the most promising field agent to come out of the academy in decades, who had ended up defecting under Ryan’s watch; Kris Letang—codename: Big Legs—who had decided that he would prefer a job behind the desk instead; and Bobby Ryan, who had made the executive decision to go undercover. It’s not even like Jordan is _bad_ at the job: he had been shockingly competent and confident in the field, he had taken direction fairly well, and he had seemed to understand exactly why had been expected of him.

The problem is, Ryan thinks while knocking back another shot of the vodka she keeps in her desk drawer, that maybe Jordan had been _too_ good at his job—

“Why do I have to scale the building? I wired a pen to explode. Can’t I just blow out the safe instead of climbing to the roof?” he had asked into the wire while trying to retrieve documents during their stint in Calgary;

or,

“Wouldn’t it be better to encrypt the wiretap instead of sneaking in to sever it?” he had asked during the briefing before Winnipeg, perching on Ryan’s desk without her permission.

-

2.

“Hey K.Lowe, I need a new field agent,” Ryan announces, bursting into her boss’ office unannounced.

Lowe looks up, unsurprised to see Ryan leaning grumpily above his desk. “You wrote such a glowing performance review of Eberle though,” he says mildly. “I seem to recall the phrase ‘reasonably adequate’ sandwiched between ‘not overly disappointing’ and ‘fairly competent.’ That’s high praise, coming from you.”

“I don’t want to get rid of him. I just want him to deal more with the tech side of my team,” Ryan says.

“You don’t have a team. And who do you propose will handle him if you’re shifting his job description?”

“Me,” Ryan says, trying not to cringe. “He’s going to help me, and whoever ends up taking the field. And that will make a team. And from how you’re looking at me, I’m going to go out on a limb and say that you have someone in mind.”

“Maybe,” Lowe says smoothly. “There’s this kid we’ve had our eye on for a few months now, kind of a shoot-first, ask-later type of guy. Good at what he does, does what he’s told, and doesn’t seem like the type to ask a lot of questions, you know?”

“That could work,” Ryan says. “Think he’d fit in okay?”

“Probably.” Lowe sniffs the air. “Have you been day-drinking?”

Ryan rolls her eyes. “Call him. Get him here,” she says, ignoring her boss’ question. “Guess I should meet him. Ebs probably should, too.”

-

3.

True to his word, Lowe sends some messy-haired guy in a coral blue dress shirt to interview with Ryan and Jordan. The guy, Taylor Hall, is proficient with firearms, passes psychological testing with reasonable scores, and manages not to puke after all the physical trials, the latter of which Ryan finds particularly impressive. Taylor’s eager and seems to take direction well enough; Ryan’s not entirely convinced that he’s going to be any good at any missions that involve charm or intimidation, but she figures that she could probably send Jordan to figure out what to do in those cases. She makes the executive decision to welcome Taylor to the team.

-

4.

For better or for worse, Jordan takes to Taylor almost immediately, partially in his excitement of getting to focus on tech and gadgets instead of the field, and partially because Taylor seems intent on becoming buddies with both him and Ryan, and brings them both gifts on his first day of duty.

Ryan stares at him in disgust. “Are you trying to buy our respect? Because, as your handler, I’m telling you now, I will probably never respect you.” It doesn’t stop her from popping one of the Godiva caramels in her mouth though.

“I can roll with that,” Taylor says cheerfully, and then makes his way over to the makeshift lab where Jordan’s waving him over excitedly to show off his newest invention.

-

5.

It turns out that the three of them do end up working pretty well together as a team. Jordan seems more content to be the disembodied voice that tells Taylor where to go while sitting back with his computer and gadgets. Taylor takes to fieldwork like a duck to water, and always promptly delivers whatever seems to be needed. The only hitch in the plan happens the one time when they need someone to distract the mark via seduction. Ryan sends Jordan in for that one: he might not be suave exactly, but at least he’s more charismatic than Taylor.

“Better looking, too,” Jordan adds, fitting Taylor with a wire, his hands lingering on Taylor, for much longer than likely necessary.

“Whatever, Ebby,” Taylor says, not moving away. He’s got that look on his face again, the one he gets when he’s watching Jordan and thinks that Jordan’s distracted with programming new gadgets.

Ryan’s funny little team is odd but functional and oozes competence; under duress, she might even admit that she’s kind of fond of her lovesick children. Luckily, she’ll probably never have to since she’s been trained not to give up information during interrogation and torture.

So instead, she doesn’t say anything and pulls out the next mission file.

-

6.

Ryan’s still putting together briefing packages for her team when Jordan knocks on her office door shortly after ten p.m.

“Hey,” Jordan says. “What’re you still doing here?”

“Putting together packages so that you and Hallsy don’t cock this next one up,” Ryan says without looking up.

“You should totally get an assistant for that,” Jordan says cheerfully. “We can vouch for you that you need one. Hey: maybe you could get a rocket?”

“Did you _actually_ need something?” Ryan asks, impatient.

Jordan looks thoughtful. He steps into the room, perching on the edge of Ryan’s desk. “So. Off the record.”

Ryan stares at him for a long moment, willing him to move. When Jordan doesn’t, she just sighs and relents. “Okay...?”

“Hooking up with co-workers,” Jordan continues. “I’m asking for a friend.”

Ryan rolls her eyes. “I knew this one was coming. Cute that you think you have to ask my permission, though.”

“Not _me_ ,” Jordan protests. “A _friend_.”

“Oh,” Ryan says. “Your _friend_. Who is not you. And someone else we both know.” She sighs. “Well, off the record, I would say that as long as the two of you don’t let it get in the way of work, it should be okay. Like, don’t make it mean you’re going to start using your heart or whatever to decide to do things. Or your dick, I mean.”

“Too late,” Jordan says. “He already does everything feelings-first.”

“I thought you said it was a _friend_ ,” Ryan retorts.

“Whatever, Whit,” Jordan says, but can’t help the reddening of his cheeks that give away his relief. He hops off the desk and waves as he leaves. “If I were my _friend_ , I would probably say _thanks_. And don’t forget to go home and get some sleep at some point.”

“Pictures or it didn’t happen!” she shouts at his retreating back, mostly in jest.

Jordan grins, giving her a thumbs up on his way out the door. Idly, she wonders if she’s going to end up regretting saying that.

-

7.

Three days later, Ryan’s checking her email at the office toward the end of the night, when a surveillance feed takes over her desktop and starts projecting a grainy video in what appears to be real time. It takes her approximately five point four seconds to realize that Jordan’s most definitely hacked her computer and synced up a webcam feed of two guys going at it on a twin-sized bed.

It takes her another four seconds to realize that the guy on top is definitely Jordan, and that he had to know that she would probably keep watching.

Jordan pauses to lean down and whisper something to the guy underneath him, and suddenly, Taylor pops into view, grinning and waving at the camera.

Ryan doesn’t know whether she wants to laugh or cry. Instead, she reaches into her desk, and pours herself a stiff drink. As she settles in comfortably, she supposes that there are worse ways to spend her Thursday evening.

-

8.

“Test run,” Jordan says. “I made these cufflinks. They spray mace when activated.”

Ryan stares at him. “You’re giving these to Hallsy? Recipe for disaster: ten bucks says he’ll end up macing himself.”

“I’m pretty sure someone who can shoot a gun with one hand while firing a crossbow with his other hand and his mouth can figure out cufflinks,” Jordan points out diplomatically.

“Probably not,” Ryan says. “I don’t understand why he won’t just put down the gun and shoot the crossbow properly anyway.”

“You know he never lets go of his Glock: it’s his baby,” Jordan replies.

Ryan considers asking if Taylor takes it to bed when they fuck (mostly since Jordan, the smug bastard, very emphatically continues to leak video of it to Ryan), but decides that she doesn’t really want to know. In the end, she compromises with Jordan and gets the cufflinks filled with pepper spray for the trials, which is for the best when Taylor ends up with a face-full of it.

“Well,” Jordan says, handing Ryan a ten dollar bill. “Guess we’re going to need a safety for that after all.”

“Goddammit,” Taylor says, frantically pawing at his eyes. “I just _maced_ myself and I can still see you assholes exchanging money: what, is my pain funny to you?”

“Yes,” Ryan says smoothly. “Yes it is. And that’s not mace, only because I totally called this happening.”

(Later, she might even take her winnings to Tim Hortons and pick-up some coffee and doughnuts for her team. Basically, she’s kind of boss of the year.)

-

9.

After eight years on the job, Ryan prides herself in her cultivated reputation of an over-prepared hardass. So when what looks to be a routine wiretap, document-switch file lands on her desk, she quickly outlines a plan that will send both Jordan and Taylor into the building, but not without her as the lookout outside the building, just in case. From her position on the bench in front of the empty building, she can spot Jordan on the roof, his fingers flying across his tablet, and hear Taylor’s voice filtering over the earpiece telling he’s still in the process of trying to find the files to be replaced with decoys.

“Wait,” Jordan says, suddenly, with more urgency than Ryan’s ever heard from him before. “I think there’s something coming toward you, Hallsy.”

Ryan rolls her eyes. “The place is empty, Ebs. No one knows we’re here. No one’s been in the building. You would have seen someone come in through the backdoor or the roof I would have watched them walk in the through the front, and we cleared all three floors before sending him in.” She shifts on the bench she’s sitting on, wishing she wasn’t wearing these stockings. “It’s probably just a roomba or cleaning robot or something.”

“Don’t you watch movies?” Jordan hisses. “Those things can be turned into weapons of mass destruction, guys.”

“Maybe you watch too many movies. You guys should find something else to do for date night.”

“Fuck you—” Jordan starts, but he’s interrupted.

“Uh, guys?” Taylor cuts in plaintively. “Not a roomba. And it’s possible that they’re blocking the only exit. And there’s a lot of them.”

“We should get out of here,” Jordan says. “I’ll come find you. Get out of there _now_ , Hallsy.”

“No,” Ryan snaps. “You finish this fucking job, or I’ll come up there myself and finish you. You’re emotionally compromised, Ebs. That’s why you shouldn’t get involved with your teammates.”

Jordan ignores her for a long moment, and then the sounds of him on the move kick in; if Ryan didn’t suspect that Jordan’s commitment to his job, as always, had won out and he’d finished the tap first, she’d wring his neck. “On my way to you. Hallsy,” Jordan says. “Gonna find you another exit. Just hang in there, okay?”

“‘S’ok, found one,” Taylor says brightly, followed by the sound of breaking glass and then, the audio connection cutting out.

Jordan yells something over the feed, but Ryan can’t hear him as she hits the ground running, still in her heels.

-

10.

Ryan makes the executive decision for the three of them to bunker down for the night in a motel room. It could be worse, Ryan supposes while taking stock of the souvenirs Taylor’s picked up from his alternate escape route: a concussion is better than a crushed skull; a dislocated shoulder is better than a broken neck; a bruised back is better than fractured vertebrae. None of this seemed severe enough to require a hospital, and Taylor had agreed once he regained consciousness.

It doesn’t stop Jordan from glaring at her though.

“He could have _died_ , Ryan,” Jordan says angrily, clutching tightly to Taylor’s hand. “What, are we _expendable_ to you?”

“You have to be,” Ryan says flatly, and then winces when Jordan looks angrier rather than disappointed or even hurt. “But it’s fine. He’s _fine_.”

“I’m fine,” Taylor agrees. “Doesn’t even hurt. It’s just, you know. Mild discomfort.”

Jordan turns his glare on him. “I hate you. You don’t know how much I hate you right now. A third-floor window is not an exit.”

“I jumped into a dumpster. It was fine.”

“You fell _on_ a dumpster. Then you rolled off it,” Jordan points out. “Could have broken your back.”

“Nah,” Taylor says. “My back’s really flexible.”

“That doesn’t even make sense!”

Ryan interrupts them. “You’re both idiots,” she informs them flatly, and then shoves a mostly-full flask into Taylor’s hand. “Drink. A lot of it. Then give the rest to Ebby.”

Jordan’s glare softens when he turns to Ryan. “What about you?”

“I’ve got a back-up hip flask,” she says, and Jordan looks like he doesn’t know if she’s kidding or serious. She coughs, trying to divert attention away from the sudden scrutiny and before she starts doing something stupid, like apologizing to these lovesick children. “So did you get actually get the files, or do I need to send someone competent in to fix this?”

“Fuck you,” Jordan says, but with less malice this time. “The kid can’t even move right now: give him a break, okay?”

“No, no, I have them. Switched them with the decoy.” Taylor makes an attempt at sitting up before giving up and waving his hand at them. “The real ones are in my jacket. Which is surprisingly hard to get to right now.”

“That’s because you picked up a lot of brain damage,” Ryan informs him. “Luckily, no one will ever know the difference.” She reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out the papers, scanning over them. “You guys did good today,” she says, not looking away from the stack of papers in her hands.

“Jesus, Whit,” Jordan says, climbing onto the bed and curling up next to Taylor. “Try not to look like you’re chewing glass while handing out compliments, hey?”

“Wouldn’t want you two thinking you’re useful or anything,” Ryan says lightly.

“So what next?” Jordan asks around a wide yawn.

Ryan shrugs. “We take a week off. Get our ducks in a row. Figure shit out. We’ve earned it; K.Lowe agrees.”

“But I’m _fine_ ,” Taylor says. “I don’t wanna take a week off. I’ll get on the bike. It’ll be okay.”

Ryan raises an eyebrow and looks over to Jordan for a translation, who shrugs sleepily. “I think he might be drunk,” he says.

“Man, fuck that,” Taylor slurs, and then passes out while still clutching at Jordan’s hand.

Rolling her eyes, Ryan plucks the empty flask up from the motel bed, covers the two of them with the blanket, and resigns herself to a sleepless night of decrypting documents by motel desk lamp light and—not that she’d admit it to anyone else—worrying.

-

11.

(“You have a really good shot,” Jordan tells her when he decides he can properly speak to Ryan again without glaring. After all, despite everything, she _had_ saved their asses. Jordan’s pretty bad at holding grudges anyway. “Why’re you off the field and pencil-pushing instead?”

“Someone needs to make sure you dumbasses don’t accidentally kill yourselves,” she says, but that doesn’t make Jordan stop staring at her. She sighs. “Fucked up my feet a few years back,” she finally admits. “Thought a desk job might be for the best.”

“Might help if you stop running in tall shoes,” Taylor advises. He sluggishly tips his head to rest against her shoulder, a comforting weight; she lets him because she can’t find it in herself to push him away.)

-

12.

It takes a day and a half for Taylor to be up and moving again like a normal person, and another two days for all of them to be just stir-crazy enough to head back into the office to start prepping for phase two. Jordan disappears into the makeshift lab on day three and comes out two hours later, triumphantly handing Ryan his newest creation.

“What is this?” she asks, staring at it in disgust.

“A weapon of mass destruction,” Jordan says smugly, and she fights the urge not to drop him right then and there.

“Oooh, nice, a tiny robot,” Taylor says approvingly around a mouthful of cereal.

“A tiny robot _assistant_ ,” Jordan clarifies.

Taylor grins and swallows. “Oh, Whit: now you won’t be lonely when we’re not here. Hey, you should name it ‘Nuge.’ It looks like a ‘Nuge.’”

“That’s not even a name,” Ryan says and sets it on the floor warily. The robot clicks, whirrs, and slowly makes it way toward Ryan. It might have lasers, Ryan’s not entirely sure.

(The name sticks: Ryan can’t decide how she feels about Nuge. She’s pretty sure it follows her from room to room, side-eying her. She supposes that it’s not all bad; every office could use a mascot.)

-

13.

Jordan swears up and down that Nuge totally has a translation module built into it, but the robot resolutely refuses to do its task when Ryan or Taylor is in the room. So ultimately, it seems more useful to have actual people to work on Swedish documents. Taylor knows a guy; of course he knows a guy.

The guy who shows up, Magnus, is ridiculously competent and not too hard on the eyes, either. He’s there for an hour, spending twelve minutes translating and then the next forty-eight minutes hitting on Ryan as Nuge clicks in disapproval.

In the end, Magnus leaves without Ryan’s number, but Ryan figures if Magnus really wanted it, he’d probably figure it out, or just get it from Taylor. Besides: it’s bad enough that she’d had to admit that Taylor’s connections were useful; if she’d hooked up with Magnus, Taylor would be insufferable.

-

14.

As with everything else in life, things go back to a realistic facsimile of normal, or as normal as things ever get for Ryan when there’s a disgruntled robot whirring underfoot. Her team continues to roll like a relatively well-oiled machine, two parts competent and one part exasperating, and Lowe even sends her emails about how good they work together, ratcheting up their budget and giving them more responsibilities. It’s kind of nice: sometimes overwhelming, but mostly nice.

“We’re gonna need some back-up,” Jordan says to Ryan one day, stitching up a gash across Taylor’s forearm. He doesn’t look up from what he’s doing, just concentrates on the needle and thread, pulling in and out.

Taylor protests that they’re doing just fine, the three of them and a grumpy robot, shutting up only when Jordan jabs him particularly hard with the needle.

Ryan forgets about this incident completely, until weeks later, when they get ambushed on a routine break-in to switch surveillance tapes. They get what they need, but Jordan ends up falling awkwardly down a flight of stairs and spraining his ankle during the ensuing getaway.

“We’re gonna need some back-up,” Taylor tells her quietly at the safehouse, Jordan passed out with his head in Taylor’s lap.

Ryan nods tiredly; it’s been a long day. “I’ll think about it.”

“No,” Taylor says, more serious than Ryan’s ever heard him. “I’m telling you, not asking.”

When Ryan looks over at Taylor, he just stares right back at her, like he’s challenging her.

Finally, it’s Ryan who blinks first. She sighs. “I’ll see what I can do.”

-

15.

When Ryan shows up at work on Monday morning, Lowe’s come through not once, but twice, because she’s got two new guys in her office: a little dude named Sam who’s supposed to help her with the paperwork, and another dude named Corey who’s going to be out in the field. Corey Potter looks vaguely familiar to Ryan and she can’t shake the feeling that she’s seen him before, but it could just be that he looks like the guy who’s boning Tori Spelling. She makes a mental note to stop reading tabloids as she welcomes both of them to the team.

-

16.

With Corey around, Ryan doesn’t have to send Jordan into the field as often, which seems to improve Taylor’s mood drastically. And having reliable back-up for Taylor means that Ryan’s also back in Jordan’s good graces, and he starts leaking live stream sex tapes of their bedroom shenanigans to her again. She supposes that she doesn’t mind all that much: she appreciates the background noise and company, sort of, during late nights at the office.

(One time, Corey sneaks up on her, and not only does he get a glimpse of what she’s watching, but he manages to figure out exactly who she’s watching before she can minimize the screen.

Corey just grins. “DSLs, amiright?!” he says, holding up his hand for a high five.

“Ugh,” Ryan says, letting out a breath she didn’t even know she had been holding, stands up, and walks past him.)

And as for Sam, suddenly files are getting filed and emails are getting answered, things Ryan’s been meaning to do forever but probably would have never actually done because she never cared enough to accomplish the tasks. He produces intricate spreadsheets and detailed expense reports seemingly out of thin air, all while talking on the phone, either simpering and cooing quietly (“...no, _you_ are...no, _you_!”) or yelling angrily (“Seriously, I mean it! This time it’s fucking _over_!”), depending on the day.

“My... _girl_ friend,” Sam explains to Ryan, even though Ryan’s never asked. “We’re, you know. Working out some stuff. On again, off again?”

(Just listening to Sam interact with his girlfriend is exhausting to Ryan. She’s happy with what she has: her work, a voyeuristic view of Jordan and Taylor’s sex life, and occasional hook ups with Magnus, who had managed to track down her number after all.

 _The Scarlett Johansson character from that movie had it right_ , she thinks as she fires off another sext to Magnus. _Love is for children. And other people_.)

-

17.

Later, Ryan will wonder how she missed all the signs, how she didn't put all the pieces together faster - distracted with Magnus, maybe: through the sharp, sudden pain in her knee, she makes a mental if regretful note to call their thing off immediately. She was probably just blinded by Corey's competence; she's always been a big fan of success. From this close though, she can’t believe she never noticed it before: she’s only ever had two defectors under her watch; it’s unnerving to be staring into Corey’s familiar eyes right now as he stands above her with his ever-calm, slightly apologetic smile after taking out her knee.

"I'm sorry about this, I really am," Corey's saying, sincere. "I liked working with you, always have. Please understand it’s nothing personal; you’re all really grea—"

"Hey!" Taylor suddenly shouts appearing and lunging for Corey. "What the fuck, bro?!" and Ryan's never been so relieved for Taylor's unfailing loyalty and penchant for diving head first into things.

Unfortunately, neither of them notice the blade in Corey's hand until blood's already streaming down from Taylor's forehead.

"Shit!" Jordan hollers, diving in to staunch the bleeding and putting himself in harm's way. If this were any other situation, Ryan would bitch him out, about helping yourself before helping others, but fuck that right now: her knee's killing her, and Jordan and Taylor will forever be Taylor and Jordan, no matter what she says to them and how many times.

Corey's blade never does connect with Jordan though, because of two sudden, simultaneous factors: an indignantly clicking robot that shoves its way in front of Jordan, and Sam, sneakily silent as he stealths in behind Corey and disarms him with what looks like a homemade taser.

-

18.

(“My ex lives in Chicago,” Sam says, later, as if that were an explanation, around a mouthful of cold-cut sandwich. “That’s, you know. Where all the gangsters live and all. So homemade taser.”

 _Ex_? Jordan mouths at Ryan and Taylor.

Taylor shrugs and slips five dollars into Ryan’s palm before wandering off.

“Samwise is a mystery wrapped in an enigma,” Ryan says dryly to Jordan, stuffing the money into her pocket.

Jordan nods. “Wrapped in deli meat,” he adds, as they watch a slice of salami fall from Sam’s sandwich onto his shirt and the ensuing struggle as Sam tries to rescue it with his mouth.

On the other side of the room, Taylor’s thrown himself onto a couch and appears to be speaking very seriously at Nuge, fondly patting it on its head.

“Think Potter gave him more brain damage?” Ryan asks Jordan.

“Nah,” Jordan says confidently. “He just wants to bond with the robot since he thinks Nuge has feelings after it, you know, saved my life.”

Ryan rolls her eyes. “What a weird dude. And he kind of looks like Frankenstein’s monster now, too, with the stitches and all,” she points out.

Jordan grins. “I think Hallsy’s massive black eye’s kind of a huge turn on, actually.”

“Please never, ever, speak to me again,” Ryan tells him seriously, but notes that Nuge hasn’t actually tried to electrocute Taylor once during his entire one-sided conversation. For a moment, she wonders if Taylor might be onto something.

Then she catches herself and realizes that they all probably desperately need a vacation.)

-

19.

When Ryan storms into Lowe’s office that evening, it’s probably a good thing that Jordan had insisted that she not take Sam’s taser with her - she probably would have used it without a moment’s hesitation.

“You!” she shouts, limping toward his desk as he looks up, alarmed. “Fuck you, you are the reason I day-drink!”

Lowe puts down his pen and rubs the bridge of his nose. “Now I think I would know a thing or two about—“

“—Potter was a double agent, you stupid pigeon! How do you not remember that we had him once already and then he defected?! When I said we back-up, I did not mean ‘find someone to murder us from the inside’!” She knows she’s yelling at her boss, but quite frankly, at this juncture, she does not care.

He exhales loudly. “Did you kill him?”

“No, we did not _kill him_.”

“You let him go?” Lowe says in disbelief.

“He has a wife and kids, what the fuck were we supposed to do? We’re diligent, not soulless you incompetent asshole! He was just doing his job, you’re the one who fucked up. You deal with it,” Ryan says angrily, still glaring.

Lowe sighs again. “Okay, okay,” he says, defeated. “Two weeks paid vacation.”

“Three,” Ryan snaps. “For me and my team. Potter fucked up my knee and almost blinded one of the boys.”

“Fine,” Lowe relents. “Three weeks. _After_ all of this is over.”

“Fine!” Ryan shouts, then limps out the door, slamming it behind her. And then, realizing her omission, opens the door to stick her head into the room again for a moment. “Uh, we’re keeping Gagner though.”

“Fine, fine,” Lowe says, waving her off.

“Fucking _fine_!” she hollers, and closes the door again with force, feeling pretty comfortable in how the encounter’s gone and goes back to her team to tell them the good news.

-

20.

Ryan doesn’t enjoy having a sprained knee; even though the recovery’s ahead of schedule, it still sucks. To make herself feel better, she takes the opportunity to call up Magnus more regularly. They do need to pick a new location outside of her office to hook up though, after last time when Nuge had ended up in the room and had beeped loudly and non-stop, effectively killing the mood.

Sam continues his research and organization, usually while still on the phone. The conversations these days usually involve less profanity, so Ryan thinks this probably means that he’s gotten back together with his ex. She doesn’t mean to eavesdrop, either, but she’s pretty sure she hears Sam use the phrase “ _suck your cock_ ,” but hey: that’s not really any of her business, either.

“On again, huh?” Ryan says when Sam hangs up, a dopey smile on his face.

“Yeah, guess so,” Sam says nonchalantly. “Kaner can be a huge douchebag, but he’s not so bad.”

Ryan raises an amused eyebrow. “He?”

Sam’s eyes grow comically large. “Oh...shit...I mean...”

“Relax, Gags,” Ryan says, putting her hands up in front of her. “It’s cool. We don’t care. Not gonna hate-crime you or whatever.”

Sam still looks apprehensive. “But what about...?”

“...Hallsy and Ebs?” Ryan guesses. “Trust me, they won’t care.”

“Hallsy and Ebs won’t care about what?” Jordan says from behind them. He looks awfully smug for someone whose shirt’s currently inside out.

“Gags’ girlfriend’s a dude,” Ryan tells him.

“Oh,” Jordan says. He pauses as Taylor sidles up beside him, his hair messy and his mouth red and swollen. “Hey Hallsy, here,” he says, and gives him a ten dollar bill.

Taylor looks at the bill in his hand and frowns. “Are you paying me for sex? I think that’s called prostitution.”

Jordan rolls his eyes. “No, it’s just that you called that Gags’ girlfriend’s a dude.”

“What? That doesn’t make sense. How is his—”

“—he’s boning a dude,” Jordan says patiently.

“Oh!” Taylor says, understanding dawning. “Yeah, okay, cool: totally called it.” He holds out a fist for Sam to bump. “Me too, eh? Pretty great. Hey, one time, we did it on your desk.”

Sam stares at him. “Oh god, why?”

Jordan shrugs. “It was convenient.”

“Also, awesome,” Taylor adds.

Sam’s making a distressed face at this new information, but at least he doesn’t look like a scared rabbit anymore, so Ryan decides that this is probably not the time to bring up the part where she and Maggie also fucked on Sam’s desk last week.

-

21.

The best thing about handling a field agent like Taylor Hall is his willingness to shoot first and ask questions later.

Incidentally, Ryan realizes, the worst part of handling a field agent like Taylor Hall is his willingness to shoot first and ask questions later.

“It was an accident,” Taylor says, petulant as ever.

Ryan silently counts to ten and looks around for help. Sam is currently in the midst of a yelling match over the phone - great. Nuge is beeping loudly in erratic patterns; if Ryan didn’t know better, she would have thought that the robot was _laughing_.

Luckily, Jordan steps in. “You shot a civilian,” he says, but still reaches over to wind an arm around Taylor’s waist.

“K. Lowe took my Glock,” Taylor whines.

“Because you fucked up,” Ryan says coldly. She’s almost surprised at how calm she sounds right now.

Taylor straightens up in his seat. “I didn’t think—”

“—exactly,” Ryan interrupts. “You didn’t _think_. Putting yourself in danger’s one thing. Putting other people in trouble is a whole other clusterfuck. You could have fucked this up completely for the whole team: you’re lucky that a suspension’s _all_ you got.”

She pauses in the midst of her tirade when she realizes that everyone else in the room’s gone silent: Sam’s hung up the phone; even Nuge seems to have muted itself.

“Fuck this, now I have to go rework our go schedule for next week,” she says in disgust to no one in particular and then slams angrily out of the room back into her office.

(She startles awake from a surprisingly hot dream about Magnus and realizes that she’s fallen asleep on her desk, and that Taylor’s standing over her having shaken her awake. She groans. “What time’s it?”

“Like...one in the morning?” he says.

“Ugh,” Ryan says, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “You’re suspended. Go home.”

Taylor makes a face. “Just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m fine. Go home, Hallsy,” Ryan says and pulls out one of Sam’s meticulously labelled files.

Taylor nods and turns to leave, but hesitates by the door. “You know I would never fuck things up for the team, right? Not on purpose. I wouldn’t do that.”

Ryan stares at him for a long moment, and then sighs. “I know. But seriously - go _home_. It’s late and Ebs’ probably wondering where you are. It’s only for a few days – ride it out and then everything will go back to normal. Okay?

He nods again. And then, “So, about you and Maggie...”

“Fuck off, Hallsy,” Ryan says, but can’t help the tiny smile she gives him that he returns as he leaves, shutting the door behind him.

She uncaps a highlighter marker with her teeth and settles in for a long night of reading.)

-

22.

It’s almost a relief, when Ryan gets word from Lowe that everything they’ve been working toward over the past few months has led up to this, to be executed in thirty-six hours.

Ryan’s rarely nervous, but this time around, she’s got a thrumming thread of anxious energy running through her veins during the last meeting before executing their meticulous plan. “Without Potter around, we need all hands on deck for this one. Ebby, you should take Nuge with you since you need to be in the building for this one. And Gags, you sure you’re gonna be okay to go out in the field? I don’t want to send Hallsy into the compound without back-up, so I can go if you’re more comfortable with lookout.”

Sam shrugs. “Either way. I used to do fieldwork.”

Jordan’s eyes light up as he looks up from the earpieces he’s testing. “You used to do fieldwork and now you’re a secretary? You’re like that hot girl from that movie. Moneypenny.”

“Sammypenny,” Taylor adds cheerfully. “We’re going to call you that from now on. Sammypenny. Sammypenny.” He drapes his arms all over Sam. “Hey, hey, Sammypenny. Hey. Hi.”

("How does Hallsy not die every time he goes out in the field?" Sam asks Ryan as they go through the documents one last time.

“Well,” Ryan says. “Why did you transfer out?”

“Uh, because I didn’t want to die?” Sam answers almost immediately. “Like, I don’t mind going out there tomorrow, but choosing to put yourself out there to maybe die every time seems stupid to me.”

Ryan nods. “Right. So you just answered your own question.”

Sam seems to think about this for a moment. "Because he's too dumb to realise that he could die on the field?"

"Pretty much," Ryan says. She watches as Taylor and Jordan grin at each other as they go through a weapons check one more time. “It’s worked out okay for us so far.”)

-

23.

It’s T-minus sixty until go time – they’re all in position: once they’re inside, between Jordan and Nuge, they’ve calculated that the alarms will be disabled for exactly seven and a half minutes. Ryan doesn’t want to think about what might happen if they end up taking longer than that in the building.

“If we don’t make it out alive, I didn’t hate any of you,” Ryan ends up blurting out into her wire, and then cringes.

“Thanks Whit, that’s cute. Not even K.Lowe?” Jordan filters over the line, because he’s an asshole, always calm even under the most dire circumstances, and super good at ruining the moment.

“Not even K.Lowe,” Ryan confirms grudgingly.

“It’s been a pleasure,” Sam’s voice crackles in. He sounds nervous. “Just, you know. In case.”

“We’ll make it,” Taylor says, and Ryan can’t tell if he’s trying to reassure them or himself. “We’re good. We’ve got this.”

Ryan sighs. “Since I just stripped myself of my last shred of dignity anyway, you can also tell Magnus his face was great. Is great. I liked it.”

That one actually gets a startled laugh from all three of her boys, echoing over the wire (“I knew it!” Taylor crows), and knowing that they’re here, that she’s not alone, suddenly she feels better, like as long as she’s got her team, anything is possible.

Fifteen seconds to go.

“We can do this,” Ryan says confidently.

-

24.

Later, Ryan will count it as a victory that they all even make it out alive, that Sam doesn’t bleed out on the floor and they don’t have to call his stupid off-again boyfriend with horrifying news, that Jordan’s got grotesquely broken fingers and a look of pinched worry, that there’s a painful sounding rattling every time Taylor takes a raspy breath - but they’re all still _here_.

Jordan gives her a wan smile and pulls her closer, and she goes willingly, letting herself be squeezed between her team members piled on the bed of the safehouse.

“We did what we needed to do. And we’re all still alive,” Jordan tells her softly. “That’s all that matters right now.”

They’re all quiet for a long moment, exhausted, the only sounds in the room their breathing and the whirring of Nuge coming in to beep in sympathetic solidarity.

“Poor little dude,” Taylor says. “Buys us time to get out and gets its arm blown off instead.”

“I can probably fix that,” Jordan says, turning his head to press his forehead against Taylor’s shoulder. “Maybe give it a new rocket launcher arm or something.”

Nuge beeps loudly a few times, as if offering approval, before they all go silent again once more.

“So what do we do now?” Sam speaks up, finally, pale but bright-eyed. He’s looking at Ryan. Jordan and Taylor turn to her, too, expectant.

Ryan thinks it over, before shrugging a shoulder. She finds herself grinning at them, crookedly, like it should be obvious.

“We get back on the bike,” she says.

 

**[end]**


End file.
